


Favoring the Strong

by xxdrarryrebellexx



Series: A Family of Favors [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Family of Favors, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Famous, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Love Triangles, Drarry, Famous Draco Malfoy, Good Draco Malfoy, HP: EWE, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Harry Potter, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Multi, Musician Draco Malfoy, POC Harry Potter, Self-Indulgent, This Makes Three, another one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 13:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21636295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxdrarryrebellexx/pseuds/xxdrarryrebellexx
Summary: || Finale to Favoring the Bold | A Family of Favors book 3 ||Draco and Harry are in love. Touring was fun...mostly and even he and Val were getting along.If only life could be that easy.When Draco's injury turns his life upside down, will their relationship be able to withstand the torment too?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Original Female Character(s)
Series: A Family of Favors [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/971709
Comments: 64
Kudos: 49





	1. - ä -

Harry Potter is pacing across the floor of a hospital lobby. He just wants to know what's going on. He has both muggle and wizarding approved degrees but this isn't his area of expertise and he's too involved in the case so they won't even let him anywhere near the situation. They won't even let him onto the floor on account of them doing surgery on Draco bloody Malfoy.

Just the thought makes him want to vomit.

Things had been going well. Great, even. Things were finally looking up when what he's sure to be part of their past has come to bite them in the arse again. He wants to punch a fucking wall.

He's asked Val to keep the boys with her and Wyatt at the hotel and he knows that they're panicking too, but he can barely pull himself together right now and his boys didn't need to be worried about _him_ too.

He actually does punch a wall.

His hand comes down bruised and he still doesn't think it's enough. He wants to make himself bleed because he should have known better. Draco would have said he had a thing for self-flagellation and he would have told him that that was impossible because he didn't own a whip.

He can feel the tears on his tongue when he licks his lips and brings his arm back to take another swing at the cinder block wall, but a voice speaks up.

"Are you Dr. Potter?" says a small woman from behind him and he turns to be met with a forced smile on an otherwise relaxed face.

"That'd be me, yeah." He's still getting used to being referred to as _Doctor_ instead of _Healer. _He knows his words are clipped and jittery and she keeps glancing down at his freshly busted knuckles but he can't really seem to care. "Did something happen?"

"Mr. Black is out of surgery. He isn't awake yet, but if you'd like, you can see him now."

"Of _course_ I'd like to—" He shakes his head. "Can you take me to him, please?"

She nods at him to show that she agrees or at least partially understand then he's following her as she walks down the trailing maze of hallways and corners before stopping in front of a room.

"Here you are, Dr. Potter. Someone else will be around in a mo to check on his vitals, to make sure he's keeping steady."

Harry doesn't respond and he wonders if she'll think it's rude or if she'll understand. He'd probably turn to apologize if he hadn't caught a glance of Draco's hair, golden from the fluorescents. He steps closer and closer and collapses into the chair next to the bed.

Everything is much too pale.

Even Draco doesn't look as alive as he should and that snatches a breath out of Harry's lungs.

The bed and sheets are white. As are the thin sheer curtains. They have Draco swathed in a white crinkling hospital gown. Harry thinks the only color in the room is where his hands are wrapped around his fiancé's and the tattoos running up and down Draco's arms.

Everything is quiet aside from the beeping of machines and the tiny exhales of Draco breathing, which could barely be heard under the crinkle of the sheets and his gown every time he took a breath.

"I should have known better," Harry whispers with his heart in his throat. He's reminded of a bloody bathroom and a curse and _Oh my god, I've killed him_. And he knows no good will come of thoughts like that but when Draco looks like this it takes him back to peeking into the infirmary 6th year to make sure Malfoy wasn't really dead. To see the sunlight filter in and over his face as he struggled to breathe and Ms. Pomfrey and Snape fluttered around him. Then there's a gunshot and the scene is different in his head and the gun is in _his_ hands and he can't breathe again.

He just wants Draco to be better. He wants Draco to look at him again. He wants to hold him.

When he speaks, his voice cracks.

"I keep replaying that moment in my mind. Trying to figure out how it got past our defenses and security then I remember it wasn't magic but it was probably concealed with magic. And then I realize I can't just _heal_ this. We have to watch and wait for you to recover. And who knows how long that's going to take because no one will bloody tell me anything!"

Harry runs a hand down his face and squeezes Draco's with the other. When he drops the hand from his face, he runs it through the blond's messy hair.

Staring this intently at Draco's face without his stage make up or his everyday glamours, Harry can see all his little beauty marks and freckles and the small scar on his lip where the sectumsempra had reached up further than his chest. Things he hadn't taken the chance to map out since they were fresh out of Hogwarts and madly in love in a way that only teenagers could be. He rubs a thumb back and forth under Draco's eye.

"I'm trying so hard to think that this isn't my fault. That this wasn't because we're together and happy and— gods, it's been almost 20 years since the war. I didn't think that racism and blood purity were just going to disappear, but I thought some of us would be able to move on." He chokes down a sob and whispers. "I thought _you_ were safe."

He's looking down at where their hands meet with tears in his eyes and on his cheeks and stuck in his lashes. He's hoping that Draco will squeeze back. That he'll open his eyes and crack a terrible joke at Harry's expense. That he'll ask where the boys are. That he'll start to mentally reschedule his entire tour, because what's going to happen now. Hoping for something. Anything.

Draco just sleeps.


	2. - b -

[**_10:56 pm | 22:56_**]

It's been 2 days 3 hours and 41...42 minutes.

Nothing's changed.

The tempus fizzles away above him just as the door is lightly pushed open.

"Oh," says one of the circulating doctors or nurses that keep popping in to check on Draco's vitals, "Didn't realize you were still here, Dr. Potter."

"Yeah," Harry responds, his voice just as hollow as his heart felt when Draco'd left the last time. Or anytime where something with Draco doesn't go to plan. He wonders if that's what love means. Missing someone with all you have even when they're right there. When they're there but not there. Almost certainly _especially_ then.

He remembers the same pang when he'd walked towards his death with the resurrection stone held tightly in his hands and his family floating along behind him.

"Have you gone home at all?" asks the nurse and Harry feels bad that he's been here 2 days and he doesn't even know the guys name, but his eyes never leave Draco's face. "Eaten? Have you even gotten any sleep?"

"I will when he wakes up." He knows that probably came across more dire than the situation really warrants but he's tired of being forced into situations like this. When loved ones are ripped and shredded and laid out to bleed and there's nothing he can do about it.

"You don't think he'd want you to have proper rest?"

"Oh, he definitely would, but I can't sleep if he's not in bed with me." Harry's pinkie is interlocked with Draco's though he doesn't remember when it's happened and he doesn't see the nurse glance at it before getting back to his job.

"Have you tried sleeping in here? Would you like me to send in a cot? I can bring in a pillow, and maybe a few extra blankets."

Harry doesn't mention how sleeping on a cot or with a blanket is a luxury in times like this. It'd make him sound... He doesn't even want to think about how it'd make him sound. He shakes the thought out of his head because he's not out there anymore. He's not on the run. Ron isn't splinched and angry in the middle of nowhere while he and Hermione scream and cry and dance in the Forest of Dean. That time is over a decade behind him. He blinks himself back into the present.

"It's not a problem," Harry says shaking his head. He finally turns to look properly at the nurse with a sad plastered on smile. "I'm fine, really. How is _he_?"

The nurse gives him a look that he is all too familiar with from people who haven't gone through war or lost people or died. It's a look that says '_I'm sorry things are hard, but I don't quite understand what you're going through_'. People don't voice it, but he's seen it enough that he can still hear it in the flutter of pitiful lashes. He's used to it.

"He'll be fine," the nurse sayswith a strong voice that Harry can't quite feel the power behind. "Doctor Lee pulled him off the propofol, so he should be waking up within the next few hours. As long as his observations seem all well later, you both could be going home first thing in the morning."

"That'd be— thank you..." Harry glances down at the name tag on his scrubs. "Nurse Bennett."

"I'm only doing my job, Dr. Potter." He walks to the door before tossing a small wave over his shoulder. "Have a good rest of your evening."

Harry's voice is just as hollow as ever when he responds: "You too."

When the door slams firmly shut he throws up a few wandless charms over the room and wishes he could call James and Teddy because he knows that they're probably worried sick but he can't bring himself to move away from Draco's side. He's sent them updates through text, because he knows if he starts talking to his children, his voice'll crack and give him away.

"How the hell did we get here, huh?" Harry asks, speaking more to himself than the man still deathly pale and motionless lying in the bed next to him. He runs a hand down his own face. "We were just kids playing at being adults back then. Sometimes I feel like we _still_ are. And just when things are looking up..."

Harry rests his elbows on his knees and lets his head fall forward into his hands. He's starting to notice how tired he really is. How much it takes out of you to think you've lost someone over and over again.

His exhale ends in a sob and it's almost too much for him to even realize that he's crying. That it's come this far. That he can do nothing about it but sit and wait and cry. There's no dark wizards to kill, no dragon pox to heal, no diapers to change. Just him.

He's not sure he's worth much like this.

\--:--

"Is Father going to die?" James Lucius asks, but his voice is small and broken and Teddy can't answer him. James is doing what he can, but he can't help but go mute sometimes when Aunt Val comes around or when he thinks he sees Uncle Wyatt come back from the gym, but it happens and he can't even apologize. If he could, he'd have nothing to apologize _for_. "Dad's a healer, right? S-so he can help. He can use magic to heal him a-and..."

"Magic doesn't work like that, Jamesie," Teddy says and he sounds resolute and much too old for his age. "Sometimes magic makes injuries _worse_. Dad wouldn't risk it."

"So what are we supposed to do?" James asks with tears in his eyes and Teddy wishes he hadn't've worked himself into a crying fit, because he doesn't know what to say to that either. James voice is practically a whisper as he asks: "Are we cursed?"

"I don't—" And now Teddy is sniffling, because he's been thinking the same thing since he figured out what death was and he learned his birth parents were never coming back. His Gam was never coming back. His dads had to come back. "I don't know, Jamesie."


	3. - ç -

_What, am I supposed to be sorry for still caring about you?_

Harry snaps his eyes open and lets the dream, the memory, melt away into nothing. He remembers telling Val after that how his love for Draco was something that just _was_. As if it had always existed and always would and looking back he can't believe he'd ignored Draco when he had been telling him practically the exact same thing.

He looks over at the less pale but gaunt face and runs a thumb across Draco's cheek.

He'd tried to stay up the rest of the night but somewhere between nurse Bennett coming to check on Draco and him yanking himself out of a bittersweet dream, he had found a way to get to sleep. Even if he doesn't feel as if he got any rest.

Draco is sleeping and he actually looks the part, exhaling little huffs out of his mouth. It's enough to make Harry smile for the first time in 3 days. He squeezes Draco's hand in his before lifting it to his lips and place a light kiss on his knuckles.

"The boys should be coming to visit today," he says to the calm sleeping form of his fiancé. Seeing Draco look so normal makes him attempt a smile. He notices the color coming back to Draco's face and looks down at their intertwined hands, letting his smile grows a little bigger. "Think you're up for it?"

"Depends," says a hoarse voice and Harry's eyes snap open. "Do they expect me to look worse than you?"

Harry doesn't think before throwing his arms around Draco's neck and pulling him into a tight hug. He has barely slept or eaten or done anything besides a quick tempus or freshening charm in the last few days. The tears burst out of him and he knows he should call in a nurse, but he doesn't want to let Draco go. Because Draco's here and alive and awake for the first time in more than 3 days.

"Oh gods, _Draco_."

"I'm right here, love. I'm not going anywhere."

Harry pulls back and places his hands on Draco's cheeks, looking between his eyes. He looked tired as hell and slightly uncomfortable but not in any immediate pain. Harry dives in for a kiss. It isn't deep or probing, it's soft and loving and says I'm glad you're okay and I missed you. I missed you._ Imissedyou.Imissedyou.Imissedyou._

"Your heart stopped," Harry says in a whisper, their foreheads touching. Saying _you died_ hurts too much, regardless of how true it is.

"I'm sorry," says Draco understandably.

"No, _I'm_ sorry," Harry says, "I should have done a perimeter check myself. I still do it at work too and I just didn't think. I didn't—"

"Don't you dare start blaming yourself for this." Draco tries to sit up and tenses up in pain instead. Harry lets go of him to press the nurse call button.

"Where does it hurt? Was I putting too much pressure on your body? I was trying not to manhandle you too much."

"Potter, I swear to Merlin if you don't shut the bloody fuck up—"

"Mr. Black," says a nurse as soon as she walks into the room. "It's so nice to see you awake. Dr. Potter, if you wouldn't mind." She's looking at where he's laid across the bed touching Draco as much as possible while also trying to not put him in immediate pain. He scooches backwards until he's sitting up in his seat and he can watch her check Draco's vitals and current range of motion from a view that isn't in Draco's _lap_.

"Do we have to worry about the stitches coming loose?" Harry asks her as she starts twisting Draco's torso from side to side.

"Not that I can tell," she says shaking her head. "However, I do have some bad news."

"Bad news?" Harry says, gripping Draco's hand tightly. Draco squeezes back lightly and Harry wants to break down because Draco's the one that's hurt right now. He's the one who almost _died_ 3 days ago and yet here he is trying to reassure Harry. It's a far reach from the guy he knew before. Harry doesn't want to think about the fact that maybe their time apart was necessary for them to be together now. "What kind of bad news?"

"As you know, Dr. Potter, when Mr. Black was brought in, the bullet was still stuck, just pass his ribcage. We had to complete the initial surgery to remove it and make sure he was stable again."

"Yeah, so what?" Harry asks and hopes he doesn't sound as worked up as he actually is. Draco nudges him and both he and the nurse turn to acknowledge him.

"Well, Mr. Black, this seems to be a targeted attack by someone presumably in a cult or with a large following and belief in witchcraft."

"I beg your pardon?" Draco nor Harry are surprised that this was a purposeful attack, but the fact that she thinks it's based in magic is what puts them both on edge. "Sounds ridiculous," Draco says finally and Harry forces a laugh, though the hairs on the back of his neck are standing on end. He's terrified but wired and it shows.

"Yeah, what would make you think something like that?"

"The bullet itself looked strange so we sent it in for testing to make sure you hadn't been poisoned or anything as well. When the results came back it showed that it was made of what seems to be melted silver and though it had been hollow, was filled with some sort of chemical mixture including stewed mandrake, but not from any species found locally."

Harry is focusing on her words, trying to piece together what they should mean for Draco _now_. Stewed mandrake itself wasn't too dangerous and not _many_ potions that included it were particularly deadly but it still felt like she was avoiding something. Draco catches it before he does.

"What do you mean the bullet '_looked strange_'?"

"Other than the fact it was an odd color? It was covered in carved symbols for starters." She shakes her head trying to keep her composure, but Harry and Draco are already past the point of calming back down, though they show it in very different ways.

"Why am I just now hearing about this?" Harry barks angrily. "He's been in here for 3 fucking days! You think someone would have told me that someone was after him and willing to use crazy _voodoo-whatever_ to murder him!"

"I apologize," says the nurse,"but considering you two aren't married, I was unable to share this information with anyone without the presence or consent of Mr. Black himself."

"That's absolute rubbish. What if somebody would have come in here while I was asleep or if I wasn't here. They could have—" Harry is on a roll now, but Draco tightens his grip around his fiancé's wrist.

"Thank you for the extremely late heads-up," Draco drawls. "I assume you've alerted my manager or security detail at least? Otherwise, what are you still doing here?"

The Malfoy glare is enough to send her scurrying from the room and Draco lets out a pained breath.

"Of-bloody-_course_ I'm being targeted for an assassination. Can't just have a fucking break, can I?"

Harry knows better than to answer those questions. He's quiet when Draco starts to cry age old war-logged tears. He holds him as gently as he can while he sobs.

Draco is alive and warm and terribly sad and Harry can't figure out how to help him.


	4. - d -

"Well, this is brilliant," Draco says sarcastically pinching the bridge of his nose. He drops his hand when the IV starts shifting uncomfortably. His other hand in wrapped up in Harry's warmer one as the darker man rubs soothing shapes below his knuckles.

"Should we call Kingsley?"

"Shacklebot never liked me. Why would he care?"

"It's his job. If someone is out there willing to endanger the lives of children _and_ muggles over an— an old grudge, someone needs to stop them."

"It's not an old grudge though, is it? People's families died. Their children or their parents. And who protected the children and muggles then? It surely wasn't me!"

"Draco, don't do this again. You didn't have a choice."

"We all had choices, Harry, you know that just as well as I do; and I made the _wrong_ _one_."

"Is that what you want right now? For me to yell at you about how dumb you were at 17 and how much you fucked up because you didn't think you had any other choice?" Harry said standing and snatching his hand away. His breath is coming out rougher than he would like, but he is forcing the urge to panic as far down as possible. He hasn't had one attack in the last three days and he isn't going to let himself have one now that Draco is finally awake, even if it's tearing him up inside to have to have this conversation again after so many years and so many nightmares.

"I want you to stop coddling me and tell me the fucking truth!" Draco snaps.

"When have I ever lied to you?" Harry snaps back. "You made shitty decisions, good for you. We all did. It was a bloody fucking _war_. None of us came out unscathed. Teddy lost his parents. Ron lost a brother. 'Mione obliviated herself from her parents lives. I died for Merlin's sake and it didn't do anything to stop the fighting! We've been fighting almost as long as I've known you, but I know when to give you a break. Whoever this psycho is, deserves to be in jail. You were cleared by the Wizengamot years ago. They don't get to try and find their twisted version of justice."

Draco looks down at his hands and squeezes them tightly before reaching out and grabbing Harry's again, pulling him closer. He places the warm hand on his cheek before dragging it softly to his lips and placing a kiss first on his knuckles then on his palm.

"I love you," he whispers into the calloused skin.

"I love you too," Harry says softly, running his other hand through the greasy blond hair.

"Do you..." Draco starts, his voice small before clearing his throat and trying again. "Do you really think Shacklebot will help me now that Father is out of prison."

"Draco, you are not your father."

"You always say that."

"Because you aren't. You've grown up. You've learned to respect people's differences and you built a platform where you can _help_ people. And you do, all over the world. Your father could never." Harry smiles softly at him before leaning down to kiss Draco's forehead. The blond blinks slowly and pushes down a yawn. "I can call Shacklebot later, but I do need to call the boys now that you're awake. You want me to go into the hall so you can catch a quick nap?"

"Never want you to leave my side," Draco mumbles as his eyes flutter shut and Harry realizes his massive surge of energy and adrenaline probably increased the release of pain medication and muscle relaxers. He smiles at his fiance.

"I'm not going anywhere."

\--:--

The phone ringing loudly in the hotel suite is enough to wake Valeria up. Wyatt is in the next bed over and the boys are in the other room. She answers without checking the caller ID. There's no need really when everyone who matters is accounted for and Harry has been texting updates for the last few days.

"Hello?"

_Hey, Val. Are the boys awake yet?_

"Harry!?"

_Expecting someone else?_

"Just hadn't expected a phone call." She slides from beneath the covers and makes her way to the bathroom, placing her phone on speaker and splashing a handful of water in her face. Her reflection looks less tired than she feels and she wonders how that could be. "What's happened? Is he doing any better?"

_He woke up._ Harry's voice is excited in the quiet way he gets when he doesn't know how something has happened. When he wants to be excited but doesn't want to put anyone else out in the process. She lets out a breath because they're all okay.

"Do you want to talk to the boys?"

_Not if they're still sleeping. You can let them rest. And...I don't want it to be a bother, but I know they've been really worried too and I just-- Well, Draco's resting a little more now, but if you could bring them by around lunch, that'd be brilliant._

"You don't even have to ask, Hare."

_Thanks, Val. I'll see you all later, yeah?_

He hangs up before she can get another word in, but she's glad he's okay. That they're both okay. She goes back into the room to set her phone on the charger before she decides to get in the shower. Maybe the hot water will soothe her still tense muscles and relax the raging thoughts in her head too.

She wonders if she's invading. They're all friends now. Or at least she would like to think so, but then she thinks about how new she is to all of this. How they've always had each other. How they've gone to school together. How they've fought wars. How they've had a child. She was only a drop in the ocean compared to everything Harry and Draco had together and after three days of texting, mostly just checking on the kids, her mind is full of thoughts she can't quite seem to get to go away.

She steps out of the shower less tense and goes to wake up the boys. 

Harry and Draco need them.


	5. - ê -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldn't figure out how to end this chapter so it's just...this i guess

On the other side, James isn't even talking, but he's gripping Harry's waist as tight as possible. Harry knows this must be hard for them. He kisses both of their foreheads and starts walking with them to Draco's room.

As they walk, he finally chances a glance upwards and looks around.

"Where's Val?"

"She walked us in and left," answers Teddy. "She said she didn't want to intrude."

"But—" starts Harry. _She wouldn't be intruding, _he wants to say. _Ron and 'Mione are on their way over now_. He thinks that maybe she just didn't want to leave Wyatt. That's a good reason. Her not wanting to be here is fine too, he just hasn't expected it, especially now that she's gotten closer to Draco. Harry tries not to pout. When he remembers that Draco is alive and not in a coma and his kids are here too, he realizes he has plenty to smile about.

Harry walks them to the hospital room where Draco is still snoring away softly, his chest moving gently beneath the thin hospital blanket. He ushers them to the seats next to their das before sitting on the side of the bed himself. Slowly he lifts a hand, running it through Draco's hair. His voice is just as reverent when he starts speaking quietly to him.

"Draco. Hey, love?"

Draco shifts, a breath coming from his nose, before yawning and leaning into Harry's palm on instinct. Harry let's him. He drags his hand down, rubbing a thumb across his fiancé's cheek.

"Wake up, babe, the boys are here."

Draco blinks his eyes open slowly then leans closer to Harry again, turning his head and placing a kiss onto the palm of his hand. He blinks again then looks over at his boys.

James is the first one out of his seat. There are tears streaming down his face but he isn't talking. His sobs are broken by groans and grunts, but his dad knows what he means.

"I'm right here," Draco says gently, brushing his son's curly hair from his face. "Jamesie, I'm okay."

Teddy is standing next to the bed nervously fiddling with the plastic panel on the side, flipping it and pressing all the seemingly harmless buttons.

"Teddy," says Harry looking at his oldest son, "it's okay to be sad, but Draco is right here. He's okay. You can hug him too. You don't have to hold back. Not with us. We're family, yeah? And we love you so much."

Harry's words tear through Teddy's nervousness in seconds and without a word he rushes over and throws himself into Draco's open arms as well.

The knock on the door has Harry tense with his wand at the ready.

"I thought you said Pansy called and said she was busy."

"She did."

The knock is more forceful this time and Harry casts a quick wordless protection barrier before pulling the door open. His brief shock has him staggering back.

"Narcissa," he says pleasantly but confused, "hi."

"Hello," she says, brushing past him and coming into the room immediately moving to Draco's side. She brushes her hand across his face. "Oh, look at you, Dragon. How are you feeling?"

"Why'd you bring him?" Draco asks looking past her to where his father and Harry are glaring each other down.

"He's under my supervision and I had to come see if you were okay. Pansy sounded like an absolute mess through the floo."

"Of course she did," Harry and Draco both say at once, but Harry doesn't budge from his spot in the doorway between Lucius and Draco.

"Such a good guard dog," Lucius says staring into Harry's eyes, but clearly talking to Draco. His voice isn't as powerful after years of being in Azkaban and he looks just as sickly and hollow. "House broken and everything. Does he know any tricks?"

"I can do _attack _and _protect _pretty well. Want to test it out?"

"Down, boy," Draco calls from his spot on the bed. "Let him in."

Harry steps to the side to let him in, bumping him with his broad shoulders, but even that is a little too much for the tall and unhealthy man and he stumbles. Harry catches his arm in his grip and helps hold him steady.

"Sorry," he says quietly and watches as Lucius clenches his jaw before pulling away, standing to his full height and following Narcissa's path to Draco's side.

Harry notices the look on Lucius' face, but it takes the twiddling, reaching and pullback of his hands for him to realize that he wants to fret over his son. It reminds him of a time before 4th year when he seemed to care for Draco. Reminds him of the war when the Malfoys stood on the wrong side, but looked so relieved to see each other alive.

Teddy and James are still standing, on the other side of the bed, holding on to Draco's outstretched hand and just staring up at their grandparents. They had met Narcissa before, had spent weekends with her, but Lucius was tall enough to pose an intimidating figure even if he was thinner than he should be. Draco's height was just startling but not terrifying and Harry figures it's probably because Narcissa is _normal sized._

He hides a snort of laughter behind his hand before stepping closer to his kids. James grabs onto his hand as well and squeezes because he still can't talk.

"Father," says Draco, "These are my boys. This is Teddy, though I'm sure you already know of him."

Teddy looks seconds away from running or bursting with wild magic.

"My condolences," Lucius says and Harry notices Narcissa digging her nails into his arm and he smiles. "I never met your grandmother, but my wife tells me she was a very proficient witch."

"You shouldn't apologize if you don't mean it." It's the strongest Teddy has sounded all day. "You didn't know her and you wouldn't have liked her, so there's no need."

Lucius looks away with a clenched jaw, but his head snaps back when Draco speaks again.

"And this is James Lucius. JL, this is my father, Lucius Malfoy."

The boy's eyes widen, but he still doesn't speak. He looks to Harry for confirmation and his dad nods. Teddy rolls his eyes before flopping back into the seat he had vacated before. Harry sits next to him and tosses an arm over his shoulder.

He doesn't have anything extravagant to say, but he understands the pressure and the feeling of being an outsider in your own family so he hugs Teddy to his side and places a kiss on his temple.

"You know we love you, Pup," Harry whispers into his hair.

"Yeah, I know," he whispers back with furrowed brows but a soft smile as he watches Draco's father carefully. "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo the thing is, i haven't updated in a days because i couldn't properly end this, not to mention i kinda have been stressed about well...everything
> 
> i went to see hamilton with my mom which was nice but then also went to therapy for multiple reasons, plus im set to move into an apartment so im trying to scrounge up funds for first months rent...good things but also stressful and depressing things. it just keeps going back and forth, but alas here's the update. lemme know if you liked it, yeah? much love
> 
> \-- luci xoxo


	6. - f -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long. there were the holidays, then i moved into an apartment. then uni started up again. its been _a lot_ to say the least.
> 
> but i'd love to hear what y'all think so far

"When exactly are you allowed out of here?" Lucius says as he fiddles with Draco's blanket.

The boys have gone to the vending machine with Narcissa and Harry refuses to leave Draco alone with his father.

"When they feel like I'm well enough." He snatches the blanket away. "Will you stop that!"

"It doesn't feel soft enough," Lucius argues, a weary hand reaching to rub the sheets between his fingers again. "You have very sensitive—"

"Yes, Father, I know, but it's a _hospital_. They don't offer 1000 count silk sheets, for Merlin's sake. I'm not here on _holiday_."

"Certainly you wouldn't mind if your mother—"

"No."

"Or Potter—"

"No one is transfiguring the sodding sheets. I'm fine. And even if I'm not, I assure you the bed dressings are the least of my problems."

Harry wonders if this is really what Lucius is like, pathetically doting without his wand. Or if it's the trauma of being trapped in Azkaban for so long only to come out and see your wand snapped in two and your son's run off to another country. He wants to ask, but Draco is giving his father a look so stern that Harry wants to laugh in both of their faces. He's been on the receiving end of that glare but he's also met Lucius, so he isn't quite sure who's winning. He thinks that maybe he should have went with Narcissa and the boys, but he promised not to leave Draco alone with his father again.

"Harry," Draco calls still looking at his father, "would you please transfigure my pillow."

Harry snorts a laugh out of his nose, because this is what they call a compromise and he never thought he'd have seen either man come to one. He stands and makes his way closer anyway. Draco hands him the pillow and he pulls out his wand, transfiguring it to be more similar to the goose down ones they have on the bed at his house. He tosses it to Lucius for approval, and though the man sticks his nose up at it, he hands it to Draco which means he deems it passable.

"Oh look," says Draco teasingly, "You've pleased him."

"Never thought I'd see the day," Harry says off-handedly and he means it as a joke. Mostly. He is surprised however when Lucius agrees with Draco.

"You've taken care of my son and my grandson. For years." He looks up into Harry's eyes which makes the darker man a lot more nervous than he can admit he should be, considering who he is. "You named him after me."

"JL is my son, of course I'm going to take care of him. And his name..." Harry shrugs. "I named him after my dad too. It was only fair."

"You kept Draco from going into Azkaban with me; you allowed him to live his dreams. Even I couldn't do that."

"Draco's a grown man," Harry says finally making eye contact with Lucius for the first time probably since he'd tried to murder him. "I'm not going to make his decisions for him."

"And I dont expect you to, but you made it possible for him to do so."

"Yes, yes, we get it," Draco cuts in, "I have a great fiancé, was there a purpose to all of this, Father."

Lucius stands up and clears his throat before bowing his head in Harry's direction. He stays there for a few moments before sucking in a breath and finally forcing the words from his mouth.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter, for always keeping Draco safe."

"I didn't...I can't...I haven't—" Harry shakes his head and looks over towards where Draco is looking up at his father aghast as if he is both astonished and afraid of what he's said.

"_Father_!"

"As much as I wish that were true, Mr. Malfoy, it isn't. I've brought harm to Draco more times than I can even remember. I've saved him from scars, but I've also given him plenty of them myself. I love Draco with practically everything I am, but it'd be a lie to say I haven't done absolutely horrid things to him as too."

"Then thank you for giving him a chance."

Harry still wants to argue. To say that Draco was the one who gave _him_ a chance. Who's _always_ giving him chances, but the look on Lucius' face is so earnest that Harry pauses.

Draco squeezes his hand and Harry lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd sucked in.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, for not disowning him or hating my son."

If Harry doesn't know better he'd be thinking about how he can see Lucius Malfoy blush before he drops his head to let his thinning hair cover his face excusing himself to find Narcissa. She's on the other side of the door when he opens it, but that doesn't stop him from pulling her out of the room even as Teddy and James come back into it.

"Did we miss something?" Teddy asks confused as he looks back out the door for any sign of their grandparents.

"Harry made your grandfather cry," Draco explains.

"W-what! I did not!"

"He's probably down the hallway in one of the bathrooms crying to Mother as we speak. He doesn't do emotion well and you're a sodding emotional mess. All of that _honesty_ and _emotional transparency_ you've probably broken him."

"Dad," whines James, "I've just met'im. Why'd you go and break'im."

"I didn't break him! I just said I was glad he didn't—" he stops himself. The boys are old enough to understand at least to a point that Draco's side of the family is tough thing to discuss at the best of times. He throws up a _muffliato_ around he and Draco, though he can't help but chuckle when the boys groan once they realize what he's done. He turns back to Draco and opens his mouth to discuss it further, but Draco beats him to it

"My father thought that we'd win the war and he'd be able to feel like he'd done something worth talking about. All of our ancestors have some great long tale about how they've amassed our fortune and all my fathers ever done was _spend it._ Then we lost, thank Merlin, and he was sent to Azkaban and he thought he would die there. Then he came back and I was missing and mother had to explain...well everything to him."

"Draco, I—"

"He never even thought I'd have children. He's not a good man, he's barely a good father, but he's trying more now than he's ever had to. I told him he couldn't be in my life otherwise and now he sees that I have Teddy and James and you and he knows how important this is to me. And for you to acknowledge that and be so bold yet genuine...they've probably gone home, actually."

Harry laughs and the spell falls.

"Well, I'm glad he's trying."

"Thank you," Draco says and he squeezes his fiancé's hand again before bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

"For what?"

"For not leaving. For talking to my father. For _trying_."

"_Blegh_," James says flopping onto the bed with Draco in whatever space is left over, his knobby pre-teen knees reminiscent of years long past. "Stop being so soft."

"Says the boy cuddling into my side."

"This doesn't count," he whines, but he doesn't move from his spot and Draco laughs softly, throwing an arm around him and kissing his forehead.

"I'm okay, James Lucius. I promise."

"Oh sure, but I'm emotionally transparent," says Harry with a doting smile on his face. He keeps hold of Draco's hand as he takes a seat next to the bed, raising an arm to wrap around his son's shoulder when Teddy comes over and joins him in the arm chair.


	7. - g -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey futher muckers  
how are y'all?
> 
> so i wrote this at like 5am sorry for any mistakes, yall should know by now that i dont really get my work beta read unless its a long piece...whoops

"_Singer DL Black has recently been released from the ICU and Recovery Unit of a hospital that wishes to remain nameless for protection of staff and other patients safety. For those of you who don't know, DL Black is a UK based singer who rose to fame in the States over a decade ago. He was recently shot during one of his concerts. This is concerning for many reasons, one of which is that he and his partner have a pair of children that were backstage as this was going on, and his audience are mostly young girls and guys around the same age! Who would want to target a man who—"_

Harry waves the telly off as he walks by the couch towards his kitchen.

"You always do this to yourself and I always have to tell you to stop it," he says as he sets the kettle on. "The Muggle news isn't going to know better than the Ministry."

"But it wasn't a magical problem," Draco says clicking the telly back on, "It was a Muggle gun."

"Stocked with bullets that were covered in runes and full of a potion no one can identify," Harry waves the TV off again. "They wouldn't know."

Draco clicks the TV on again. "They might."

"They don't," Harry says waving it off again, though his focus is elsewhere. He's searching the cabinets for instant tea when he hears the TV click on again and waves it off without a second thought.

"Stop bloody doing that!"

"Doing wha—"

"The magic! You harp at me about not using my magic for stuff I can do on my own, now that I can't do it at all it's like you're just using it for everything!"

"When you did your follow up at St. Mungos, they said you were probably just blocked, you know," Harry says as he finds the tea and sets about making them both a cup.

"What the hell do they know. You heard that muggle doctor, the bullet that hit me reeked of magic."

"The muggle doctor wouldn't know that. Besides, there wasn't a magical signature or anything on it."

"Doesn't mean I haven't been cursed. They could be siphoning off my magic as we speak. My magical core will rot and I'll be dead within the week."

"Don't say that. You're going to be fine."

"How can you say that!? My magic's gone!"

Harry sits next to Draco, placing their mugs on the table and pulling his hands into his lap. "It'll come back."

"Someone is trying to kill me!"

Harry opens his mouth to say that someone was always trying to kill him up until a few years ago, but Draco sends him a nasty glare and he snaps his mouth closed.

"You're not going to die, Draco. Not over this. I won't let you." He places a soft kiss on his lips and feels some of the tension melt out of his fiancé's shoulders. "And you're right, I've been using my magic a lot more lately, but it just feels uncomfortable under my skin now that it can't feel yours. It's like it's trying to fill up the space to reach you. Doing smaller charms and spells help to relax it when you're around, but I can stop. I'm going to stop if it makes you uncomfortable."

"What do you need me to do?" Draco asks softly, tentatively, as if he doesn't believe he has the right to be around Harry like this anymore now that his magic is gone and he knows Harry can feel the loss of it just as much as him.

"You don't need to do anything, love. Just being near you is enough. I promise."

Draco's grip is tight when he moves it from Harry's hands to his shoulders to pull him in for a hug, wrapping his arms around the darker man's back.

"I hate this," he says quietly. "I feel broken and useless. It's like the war all over again. Like being left without a wand in that house, but now I can't even produce a sodding wandless lumos."

"You're not broken," Harry says into his ear as loving as possible. "And you're not useless. You were never useless. Your body just needs a little rest from all the physical trauma and your magic will be back."

"And what if it isn't?" Draco asks quietly.

"The person who did this to you wasn't a wizard. We would have sensed something from the protective spells 'round the gate, yeah?"

"Not if they didn't come in through the gate," Draco mumbles and Harry pretends not to hear him as he continues talking.

"And since they're a muggle, even with a potion and some bullet runes, they wouldn't be able to do the spell-work to make anything like this permanent."

"You're not even answering the question."

"Magic isn't all you are, Draco. No ones going to hate you if it takes a bit longer to build your strength back up. I can still feel your magical core. I'm not worried about what happens if you don't get your magic back because you _will_."

"I forgot how bloody optimistic you are when you aren't blaming yourself."

Harry nuzzles his face against Draco's neck, placing a kiss there.

"Would you rather I be blaming myself," he teases even if he can still feel the guilt clawing at his throat.

"Don't you dare," Draco says squeezing him tighter. It's quiet for a moment before he can hear the blonde talking softly into his hair. "D'you really think I'm going to be alright, again?"

"More than anything." He pulls back just enough to look into Draco's eyes, rubbing a thumb back and forth across his knuckles. "And if you need anything you know the boys and I are here for you. Val too, if you want."

"I think for right now, I just want to play it by ear."

"We can do that too. We're moving at your pace, Draco. Anything you need."

The blush that rises to the tips of Draco's ears has Harry smiling as he leans in for another kiss.

He knows they'll figure it out. They always do.


	8. - h -

Val hasn't properly been to visit Draco and Harry since the accident. She's watched Teddy and James and she's driven then to and from the hospital and she's calmed Harry down over the phone, but she hasn't had the chance to sit with them and talk like they did before the incident, as rare as it had been.

They had become a stable part of her life no matter how unstable they both were.

In the end, she's the one to see the article first. The man who shot Draco is caught by police officers on a Tuesday evening a little more than a month after the incident but after being taken away by what the newspaper says is a "_Special Division_" he hasn't been seen or heard from again. Her grip on the paper tightens, then she's speeding off to tell Harry and Draco what's happened.

She makes it to Harry's house in one piece, but when she knocks, the man who answers the door is not Harry and as much as he looks like Draco, it isn't him either. They stand there frozen, staring at each other. They don't know each other or how they've come to cross paths, but they both look and feel terrified.

"Well," she hears Draco's voice cut through the awkward silence. "Father, who's at the... Oh." He comes around the door not soon after, drowning in a jumper and wrapped in thick blankets. He looks terribly thin and sickly, but she imagines he probably already knows that.

Is this what happens to a wizard without magic? She feels sick to her stomach. She doesn't know if it's a mix of seeing him so broken while she had come to bring relief or her own surmounting worry in the face of him looking so gray and drab. Then she realizes that this is Draco's father. The _murderer_ and she upheaves the little she's eaten into Harry's bushes.

"I'm not sure Harry is prepared to handle my parents and _two_ sick lovers, but come in," Draco says with his usual put-upon air, but she can see the worry between his brows easier now that he looks less put-together.

She eases her way around Draco's father, giving him a wide berth that seems to have him straightening his spine in pride as if no one else gives him such respect. He speaks to her then as if she's earned something.

"And who might you be?" His voice is more posh than Draco could ever manage and she realizes that Harry and Draco had been opposites in more than just some magical war.

"Uh...Valeria Cross," she says, "but everyone just calls me Val."

"And you're...muggle, I'm assuming." She's heard the word before, but she can't quite place it. At her look of confusion he clears his throat and tries again. "You aren't of wizarding blood."

"Oh," she says feeling less than graceful. "No. No, I'm not."

He hums but says nothing else, though he nods his departure as he heads off into another room once he's led her to the kitchen behind Draco, where Harry stands against the countertop, a cup of tea in his hands. His face looks weary. There are bags under his eyes and his hair is more of a mess than usual. She doesn't ask when the last time he slept was. But when he sees them, a smile lights up his face and she remembers what it's like to live in a bubble that encircled this man. He rushes over and leads Draco to a seat before coming to wrap her into a hug. She steps back, not wanting to breathe rancid vomit breath into his face.

"She sicked-up in your hydrangeas," Draco says with a tired smirk before reaching down to sip at the cup of tea that Harry had vacated when he helped him to a seat.

"Oh?" Harry asks looking at Val concerned. "Are you okay? Do you need... I'll fix you something." He goes over to the still hot kettle and pours her a cup of instant tea. He sets a small saucer on it to let it steep then sets about making her toast and eggs.

"Hare, I'm fine. I just... uh... Draco's father answered the door?" She hopes it doesn't sound as rude as it undoubtedly is. But it's out in the open now and there is nothing left for her to do about it.

"He couldn't have cursed you, he doesn't have a wand," Draco says looking at her pointedly as if it's her fault his father is a bloody _murderer_. She opens her mouth to say so, but it's as if he can find the answer in her face. "Oh no, of course he didn't curse you. He's just a _big scary murderous wizard_, is that it?"

"Well isn't he!?" she snaps back and if Draco doesn't look so sick, the face he sends her would be terrifying.

"He's my _father._"

"That doesn't mean he isn't dangerous."

"He won't do anything. He _can't_. And he wouldn't do anything with the boys here anyway. They're just children."

"So were you."

"I was a pureblooded, racist, prat who believed everything he said," he says standing from his chair, the most convicted she's seen him all day. "Don't speak on it as if you know anything about it!"

Harry looks between them panicked, and just as he is about to speak another voice calls out.

"My dragon, that is not how we speak to women now, is it?"

Draco sucks in a breath. When Val turns around she's face to face with a beautiful blonde woman with impeccable cheekbones and a regal yet relaxed stature.

"No, Mother. Of course not." His voice is low and simmering with anger. Val snaps her head towards him only to see him staring down at the table where the tea sits. He snaps an apology through his teeth. "I'm sorry for raising my voice, Valeria."

The use of her full name is what snaps her into the realization that this isn't an apology for her. He meant what he said and how he'd said it. This is for his mother. She doesn't know why it hurts when she barely knows him beyond their mutual infatuation with Harry. She doesn't think of the almost 5 years that they've been somewhat acquainted or the way she had been crying because he had been shot and her heart had cracked. She pushes down her first instinct to yell and scream and tear him apart and turns to properly meet his mother.

"Hello," she says reaching a hand out. "I'm—"

"Valeria Cross," says the woman with a raised eyebrow. She makes no move to reach for Val's hand so she drops it back by her side. "I'm aware. Draco and Harry had led me to believe they were quite enamored with you. But you seem to be acting more as a third wheel than a bedmate."

"Mother!" Draco snaps.

"Just making conversation, dear." Her eyes flick to Draco before she turns them back to Val and introduces herself. "Narcissa Malfoy. I presume we'll be seeing more of each other, yes?"

"I suppose..." agrees Val though it comes out harsh.

"Then I suggest," and she looks between all of them, "you keep my husband out of your domestic disputes."

Draco looks as if he wants to say something but one stare from his mother has his mouth clamping shut even as he rolls his eyes. Narcissa doesn't stock around the room after that. Val can hear her twinkling laugh upstairs as she talks to James and Teddy.

Harry huffs out a breath and hands her three mug of tea he had prepared with all the sugar and cream she liked.

"I uh..." she can't pull herself to looking into Draco's eyes. They've had this talk before. About fathers and things she probably shouldn't say, but even now she can't bring herself to say sorry.

"Whatever," says Draco standing up and wrapping his blanket further around his body again. "I'm going back to bed."

"They caught him," she blurts out. She doesn't want to apologize or leave and she definitely doesn't want him to go so she says what she's come here to say. Both Draco and Harry freeze. "It was in the papers this morning. It's why I rushed over here. The man who shot you. He was caught by police officers and taken away for questioning by a special cases unit or something."

"You can't be here," Harry says suddenly.

"What?" she rushed here to tell them this, she thought it'd help relieve some of the stress to know the guy is behind bars but it doesn't. They look even more tense.

"And your father is here," he says to Draco as of she had never spoken and the blond looks even paler if that's possible. Harry turns to her when he realizes she's still there. "Oh hell, you really need to go."

"Go where? Why? What's going—"

Harry's fireplace is alight with flames before she can finish her sentence and the house breaks into impossible chaos.


	9. - ï -

Harry stood amidst a battle he hadn't expected to be happening to him again. He's fighting the images in his head of Hogwarts falling apart around them while staring at the crumbling of his own house, his  _ home _ , as Aurors throw spell after spell. His first thought is to clear civilians. His instinct has always been to save. He grips Val tight.

"Hold onto me, okay?"

She does as he asks and he apparates to her apartment before quickly prying her off of him.

"Stay here," he emphasizes. "I'm coming right back with the boys."

He flashes between her living room and the boys' bedrooms back at his place just above the shouting and fighting and spell-flinging downstairs. In seconds he has his sons in his grip.

"I'm apparating," he tells them as a firm warning. He sucks in a breath, but he can already feel the tugging in his gut. He lets the breath out in the living room of Val's flat.

"Harry!" she yells once he lands, pulling him, Teddy, and James into a hug. She squats a bit lower to check their faces for scratches or scars, turning both James and Teddy's faces from left to right. When she sees that they're both physically fine she tugs them each closer for another hug. Harry watches her stand and fix him with a look that says he should explain, but what he needs to do right now is go back to Draco. He's gone before she can even open her mouth.

Harry stumbles back into the shambles of his own living room. He can't remember where he's laid his wand so he tries his best to not scream while taking stock of the room. He can hear Lucius complaining because he's pinned down somewhere down the hall, wrapped in an  _ incarcerous _ . Narcissa is quietly fuming with her arms bound. And Draco...

Suddenly Harry freezes. There's a wizard coming closer trying to talk to him, but he's deaf to it. Everything is black as his sight narrows. His blood is boiling and his magic is buzzing in his ears. He thinks that maybe the floo has gone off behind him with Narcissa and Lucius hurtling towards the Ministry, still bound, but he only has eyes for Draco and the Auror holding him up by his neck.

Harry's magic erupts. Swirling and expanding and exploding around them like a hurricane.

\--:--

Oddly enough, this isn't Draco's first time waking up in shackles, though the experience is much less fun when his lover isn't there whispering apologies and sweet nothings into his skin.

He can smell the aftershocks of rain and lightning. Taste it on his tongue like a thunderstorm. It's bold and brass but careful and tender and  _ Harry _ . He looks around hoping to find the reason for why Harry's magic is surging out like this. What he sees instead is the face of a man who's defeated a dark lord. A man who has died twice and lived to tell the tale. A man with a glowing scar on his forehead and his hand and magic crackling around him as he stands above hexed and  _ incarcerous _ -ed Aurors.

A man whom he  _ loves _ so intrinsically he can hardly imagine doing anything else.

"Are you okay?" Harry asks sinking down onto his knees to get rid of the binds from the spell the Auror had shoved on Draco, the DMLE officers still lying across his floor in different places.

"I—" Draco starts but his voice cracks. He clears it and tries again, his eyes flashing and searching around the room. "I'm fine. Where are the boys?"

"I took them to Val's place before it got  _ too _ barmy."

"You mean before you obliterated the law enforcement."

"They were hurting you," Harry says unapologetic and Draco watches as Harry runs a thumb across what he's sure to be a finger shaped bruises wrapping around his neck. He closes his eyes as Harry's healer grade magic kisses the ache away from his skin.

"I'm fine, Potter." He doesn't realize his hands are free until he raises them to Harry's face in order to pull him closer into a soft but quick kiss. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. All I did was buy us some time. They're still going to want to pull you and Lucius in for questioning."

"I've already gone through questioning."

"Well they're going to want to pull you in for questioning  _ again _ . Now that you aren't strapped to a hospital bed."

"Seven hells," Draco says running a hand down his face then taking a glance around the destroyed room. His eyes freeze on the couch. It'd been through over 11 years of shit with them and in moments or was destroyed. He wonders if that's a sign for how his life with Harry is bound to be, even after they've agreed to be married.

Harry follows his line of sight to the couch, the first thing they'd bought together the first time they'd started dating, and smiles a sad smile.

"We could fix it," he suggests but Draco shakes his head. It's past the point of just being stained or broken. It's burned in more places than one, the upholstery ripped in too many places to count, and he can feel the magic pulsing from whatever curse the Aurors hurled at it.

"It's about time we get a new one." Draco shrugs. "You've had this since before James was born. It's time we moved on. We aren't the same people we were when we bought this."

Harry looks as though he wants to argue, but he looks around at the mess the DMLE has made of their home and he grits his teeth against whatever petty argument was building in his head.

That's the thing about dating a war hero who has grown into a doctor, Draco supposes, he knows how to prioritize.

"We're going to talk about this," says Harry as if he can read Draco's mind, instead of just the smugness on his face. They start at each other in challenge, but Harry breaks first. "...After we stop by the bloody Ministry to find out why they had to fucking blow the house apart to bring you in for questioning. But we are going to talk."

" Oh, yes. Of course we are, love."

"I'm serious."

"I'm sure you are."

"You're a git."

"And you love me anyway." Draco smirks when Harry snaps his mouth closes.

"Doesn't make you any less of a git."

"Ever the charmer, aren't you, Potter." He grabs Harry's hand and kisses his knuckles before pulling him towards the fireplace. "Let's go see you destroy the DMLE Offices next."

They each grab a pinch of floo powder from the canister on the mantle and then they're off, twisting through the flames.


	10. - j -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long. the world is falling apart
> 
> wear your masks and gloves. wash your hands. stay 6 feet apart.
> 
> black lives matter ✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿

The Ministry swirls into focus. Harry and Draco step out of the green floo flames into the large atrium. It doesn't feel welcoming, it only serves to bring up memories they both wish they could forget. They find their way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement rather easily considering they're both at least a _little_ familiar. The closer they get the more looks they seem to garner, be it from fans or nosey office workers. Harry wants to snap at them and ask if they've even got bloody jobs or if they're just being paid to stare them down like a pair of naughty krups, but Draco opens his mouth first.

"Please don't mind us, return to your work. I assure you we are nowhere near as important as whatever it is you're being paid to do here." Though his words are sharp, his voice isn't callous, and when he ends it with a soft smile, his blond hair falling gracefully across his forehead the workers around him blush or grumble, but they do all eventually go back to their day jobs. He tugs Harry's hand as soon as the eyes are off of them.

The DMLE is just as busy as Harry remembers it. The air is full of files flying around in the shape of paper airplanes and cranes; there is the hum of voices; and the zip of spells; and the smell of stale coffee dripping into a mug somewhere amidst all the stacks of briefcases and paperwork. A sort of organized chaos that Harry used to think he'd be perfect for. Ron's here somewhere in all the mess and bustle of it all. Harry, however, has his sights set on the head auror's office and he's storming in that direction, Draco in tow.

"My house is a bloody wreck," Harry says without preamble to Head Auror Robards, the door slamming behind both he and Draco. To the man's credit, he doesn't even look up from whatever he seems to be working on at his desk.

"Sorry to say, but I am not privy to the visual state of your home prior to the department conducting an arrest," Robards answers, his quill still scratching words onto the sheet of parchment in front of him. Harry rolled his eyes.

"And _I'm _not privy to the visual or emotional state of the bloody aurors-on-duty prior to them barreling into my home unannounced while my children were there. Though a few of them may need to visit St. Mungos. Surprised you have them working in such conditions."

Robards closes his eyes and takes a breath as if he'd never wanted to deal with the bullheaded saviour of the Wizarding World ever again. At least that is something Draco can understand.

"Mr. Potter, to what do I owe the pl—"

"Cut the shit, Robards. My house is destroyed and my family was accosted and I have yet to be told why. Draco was assaulted and almost arrested and he was the main victim in the bloody fucking initial case."

"Well, you see—"

"The veritaserum has been ingested, sir," says a voice as the door to Robards' office is opened again.

Harry crosses his arms and stares challengingly at the head of the DMLE. Draco follows suit almost by instinct at the sound of his parents going through trial. _Again. _For something that has nothing to do with them this time. He pulls himself to his full height or as much of it as he can manage while still recognizing his lack of magic. He can feel the weak flickers of it cradled painfully within his core, Harry's own flame burning into him and trying to tease it out carefully. He wonders if his fiancé even knows that he's doing it.

The younger auror at the door seems to finally notice that they're there and who they are because she stumbles over her next few words.

"H-how would you er...like to...to er...to pr-proceed, sir?"

"I'm curious too," Harry adds, arms still crossed but eyes blazing. Harry's told Draco before how the green of his own eyes always reminded him of the killing curse. How it was hard for him to himself in the eye when he looked in the mirror sometimes. How he feels like it kills him a little. And though it makes him no less beautiful, Draco thinks he can see what Harry means now. For the first time since they've come into the office, Robards actually looks scared.

The head auror clears his throat as he stands and looks between Harry and the young woman at the door. His eyes settle on Harry only long enough to explain.

"I have a suspect in custody that gives us reasons to believe he may be connected with the Malfoys. I only intend to ask them a few questions."

"Is that why there was an auror in my home holding Draco up by his neck?"

"I'm sure he—"

"If you say had a reason, you'll be giving me one."

Robards audibly gulps at the thought, but nods.

"Prepare the room for questioning," he finally says to the woman still standing at the door in awe. "I'd like to speak with—"

"We," Harry interrupts and Draco harshly exhales what would have been a laugh through his nose.

"Yes, of course. _We _would like to speak with Lucius Malfoy."

Once it's settled Harry turns soft eyes onto Draco, concern furrowing his brow.

"Are you okay to wait here while we go talk to Lucius?"

"I'd rather be in here than in there if I'm being quite honest. Father still has plenty to say about us being together and living amongst muggles."

"This'll be a joy then," says Harry with a smirk. "I'll get his honest opinion on the wedding."

"If you don't give him an aneurysm first."

"Here's hoping," Harry jokes, following Robards from the room with a chuckle.

The door to Robards' office clicks shut and a wash of magic races over it to keep intruders out...or Draco in. The blond isn't too bothered by which one it could be considering how tired he's been since the shooting and how drained and frustrated he feels after almost being choked to death in his own home. He's glad Harry was there to save him because he knows not everyone is as fortunate. Doesn't want to think about what would have happened if they had gotten to his boys. Or if Harry wasn't there. If Harry wasn't the fucking saviour of the Wizarding World. He sucks in a breath. The thought terrifies him.

He slumps into the seat across from Robards' desk and lets out the breath harshly, trying not to cry.


	11. - k -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> black lives matter ✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿

Harry pulls the chair out from beneath the metal table. It screeches loudly across the floor and he smirks when he catches a flash of annoyance in Lucius Malfoy's pained eyes. He's forcing his mouth shut and Harry can tell that, regardless of how amazing of a feat it is, it hurts.

"Please state your name for the record," Harry says not unpleasantly. Although he isn't an auror, he'd gone through a good bit of the training before deciding on a path where he had more of a chance of saving lives than losing his own for once.

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy."

"How're you feeling Lucius?"

The older man grits his teeth before spitting out a list of negative adjectives in no particular order. "Horrid. Sore. Tired. Hungry. Parched. Enraged. Alone."

Harry sees that he wants to ask for his wife, but Harry isn't even sure where she is so he continues.

"Is there anything you'd like us to get for you? Water maybe?"

"No."

"Alright then, do you know why you're here?"

"Yes."

"And why do you think that is?"

"I'm a suspect," responds Lucius, but Harry can tell that saying _anything_ feels better than the pain of not saying anything. Lying by omission. Even if no question has been asked yet.

"Are you aware of what you are suspected of?"

"No."

Harry turns to face Robards, but the man's face is a mask. He's obviously shaken, Harry can see it in the trembling of his knees under the table, but his face is a blank slate. He peers back and forth between Lucius' eyes to ensure the potion has taken hold and has not been tampered with and uses Harry's questions as a basis for a truthful reaction.

"Mr. Malfoy, is it true you were just recently released from Azkaban where you served a sentence for being a supporter for Voldemort during the last Wizarding World War?"

"Yes."

"How long was your sentence?"

"Fifteen years with visitation."

"And did you serve your full sentence?"

"Yes."

Robards opens his mouth again but Harry cuts him off.

"All of that is already on his record. You already have a comparison of when he's telling the truth to know otherwise. And as you've just mentioned, he's been released from Azkaban, that case is closed. Please focus on solving this one, not inflating your own war biases."

Harry's narrowed eyes are enough to keep Robards from continuing down that particular path of questioning and the older man clears his throat.

"Are you familiar with a man by the name of Timothy Briggs?"

"I," Lucius chokes on his own voice harshly before blurting out an accompanying: "am. I _am_."

"And how do you know of him?"

"He's the muggle who tried to get his perverted hands on my grandson and I—" Lucius snaps his mouth closed again. Harry wishes he could be surprised that Lucius knows about that incident or that he's looked far enough into it to find the culprit when Harry had hoped the man would be brought to justice and it would all just disappear. But he doesn't have time to be surprised, because his eyes are on Head Auror Robards who looks giddy with this unfinished discovery.

Robards stares Lucius down excitedly, yet there's an evil gleam in his eyes as if he's almost been waiting on the Malfoys to fuck up again. So he can throw them back in Azkaban indefinitely to rot.

Harry belatedly realizes that he probably has.

He looks back over to where Lucius sits with his back ramrod straight even as his shoulders are starting to curl in from the pain. His mouth is clamped shut though Harry can see the potion flaying his lips in an attempt to part them open. Harry would never say he _knows _Lucius Malfoy, but what he does know is that this man would not hurt either of their sons. Not after the shit show that they'd all experienced during and after and _because of _the war.

"Lucius," says Harry, his voice soft and sure and pleading, "They think you hurt Draco, and that you tried to hurt James. You need to tell them the truth. Please." He'd never quite liked the man but he promised himself for Draco that he'd do his best to make sure Lucius is questioned fairly. "How are you connected to that muggle?"

"I asked Narcissa to have him followed," he finally spits out, his shoulders relaxing from the pain, but still tense.

"For how long?"

"Since the morning after James' incident."

"B-but why?" Harry asks confused. "And— _how_? You were still in Azkaban at the time."

"After you and my son were reacquainted, it made it much easier for my wife to read my letters. After a few begging for her forgiveness, I was able to plead with her enough to visit me so I could understand what the bloody hell was happening. Once I'd spoken with her I knew I had to do something about it."

"Something like what?" Harry pleads. "Narcissa said that she hadn't talked to you in years. What did you say to make her change her mind?"

"I told her the truth."

"_What_ truth?"

"I never meant for things to turn out the way they had with Draco."

"He doesn't hate you," Harry feels the need to say. Lucius looks like he wants to refute it, but then he thinks of a child he'd never met until recently who bared _his _name because of Draco and he stops.

Robards gets the conversation back on the rails though he looks red in the face.

"How did you manage to have someone agree to follow Briggs for you? No one trusts you."

"Contrary to whatever you believe," Lucius sneers, "I do have friends and they were able to find people willing to work for someone with the Malfoy name."

"And what exactly," starts Robards, his upper lip trembling in anticipation, "are they willing to do for you, Malfoy."

"Anything I ask them to."

"And what have you asked them to do, hmm?"

"Watch over the idiot until he looked more suspicious and report back to me."

"What was the last report you received on Briggs' well-being?" Harry asks because he's put the pieces together the same as Robards, but the older man looks to be a lot more feral about getting an answer and pinning it on Lucius either way.

"He disappeared between some alleyways and they lost sight of him."

"What do you mean _he disappeared_?" Harry's heard wild stories. He _was _a wild story, but muggles can't do magic. Not the real kind. It's what separates them all. "He's a bloody muggle. He can't just fucking disappear into thin air."

Lucius is suspiciously silent, but the tenseness in his shoulders increases and he grits his teeth to avoid screaming.

"What aren't you saying, Lucius. Lying by omission is still lying to the potion. You know that."

"They said it was clear a wizard was involved, but they—" He actually does scream after speaking this time. Harry can see his veins bulging in his thin neck as he tries to hold himself taut.

"They **_what_**, Lucius!?"

"They couldn't identify the magical signature, but they said it smelt like dark magic." His next words are yelled out in bursts, blood spilling from the corners of his mouth from trying to bite down on his tongue. "The old kind. Like the earth itself had swallowed him up."

Robards sucks in a breath but Harry doesn't know what the bloody fuck any of that is supposed to mean. They still haven't gotten to the bottom of who shot his fiancé and now his children may be in danger too. He doesn't know enough about old magic to be scared, but if the way the Head Auror is looking is any indication of what's to come, he feels like he should be terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo dont know if anyone's interested, but ive decided to do a youtube video reading comments and answering questions once i hit 4k followers on wattpad (_currently at 3.92k_)
> 
> if yall have any questions, comments, concerns or like...anything else, you can drop a comment on any of my fics (_here or wattpad_), tweet me with _#drarryrebelle_, hmu on tumblr @ _xxdrarryrebellexx_
> 
> i love hearing from yall, and i think this'll be a cool way to interact & start new stuff 😏


	12. - l -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had been trying to do weekly updates but something about this chappie didn't feel finished? honestly, i think some of it was just me projecting
> 
> i dont have to tell yall that sometimes i try so hard to make a chapter or a story long enough or good enough or _"perfect"_ enough that i just dont post it. which is crazy, cause nothing ive ever done is perfect (_though scorp in the "their family" series might be it, just sayin_)  
i will try to do better about posting things i have like so many fics or like parts of fics that ive literally been working on and drafting for YEARS but didn't think any of you wanted to see that i may just finish up and post for myself to get it off of my chest in a sense...so be on the lookout for that lol

James and Teddy are sitting on each end of a long and fashionable couch at Val's place. It's sleek, black pleather, covered in a series of soft fuzzy blankets and pillows. It's a stark contrast to the chaos that's happening in their home.

James is hanging from the furniture upside down, his feet swinging in the air while the blood rushes to his head. He's gone silent again but Teddy doesn't know much about what's going on to try and comfort him with falsehoods about everything being okay. They're both too tired for the same old lie. He's watching from his own seat as Val paces back and forth, wearing a path into the rug adorning her dark hardwood floors. He wants to ask her what's going on, but the way she had called out to his Dad before he'd apparated off again lets him know that she knows just as much as him. Nothing.

"How could he..." she keeps starting before a growl stretches her mouth into a grimace and she goes back to pacing with renewed vigor. He's so confused he doesn't think even that the constant motion could clear his head.

Teddy looks down at where his brother is upside down, face turning steadily redder, and nudges his cheek with a socked foot. James blinks open a hazel eye blearily but doesn't say anything, just bores into Teddy with his stare.

"They're fine," he finds himself saying. It cracks the silence in the room and freezes the constant pacing until he can breathe a little, the weight not as heavy on his chest. After he speaks, James is staring at him with both eyes, his look an obvious plea for an explanation. Teddy looks at James and wishes he had one. The best he can give is that they _have_ to be okay because he doesn't have anyone else. His biological parents died before he was even really a month old and the pain of his Gam's death still lingers and aches in the cavern of his chest.

It's true they have a family with the Weasleys and he knows that Val and Uncle Wyatt would stop everything to take care of them (even if he's practically an adult). He knows that there wouldn't be a shortage of love or family, but it wouldn't be the same as having the love from _his_ family. Having his dads jokingly arguing or making grand exits when one of them is throwing a fit or hearing his dad sing along to old DL Black hits in the shower when he doesn't think anyone is listening. His Gam had been sick for a while and though their dads haven't been together his _whole_ life, he can't imagine his life without them.

"Dad's the Boy-Who-Lived, remember?" Teddy says, his voice coming out stronger than he feels. "He can handle a few barmy Aurors."

"What does that even _mean_!?" asks Val frustrated. "You all keep mentioning this war and fighting and Draco said that..."

"That Dad died, right?" offers James as he straightens up on the couch. It's the first thing he's said since they've gotten to her place but Teddy's just glad to hear him talking again. Even if it is about something so morbid.

"Jamesie, stop," Teddy tries. She doesn't really need to hear all the rough gruesome parts about magic especially when she barely understands it. James keeps going. Seems like he couldn't keep it all in now if he tried.

"That's what you meant, yeah? How sometimes Dad'll get this look in his eyes like he can't imagine..._living_ anymore. Like he made the wrong decision to come back."

"Jamesie."

"Like he'll look at one of us and his eyes'll glaze over and then he starts having those bloody fucking convulsions and it looks like he's going to—"

"James!" Teddy yells, cutting the younger boy off. "This isn't like that. He isn't going anywhere. They're both _fine_."

"But you don't know that!" James insists, facing him, his eyes glowing.

"I don't know that, but I trust them. Don't you?"

"No, they're both **idiots**!"

Teddy is looking between his brother's eyes and he realizes that James isn't mad. He's _guilty_. He's taken on their Dad's ability to believe absolutely everything is his fault. It'd be honestly hilarious if Teddy didn't know how much it was hurting him. He doesn't think any longer before pulling his brother in for a hug. James is tense in his grip before going lax and grabbing onto the back of his shirt like a lifeline.

"They're okay," Teddy says again, absolute this time. "I promise."

"So it's true?" asks Val quietly as she stands off to the side of the couch. She's stopped her pacing to try and understand what's going on. The boys are looking at her as if she's lost her mind.

Teddy can't imagine how to explain to a muggle that his dad is sort of known in their family as the master of death. That people have been trying to murder him since the day he was born and that once they actually managed to succeed. He doesn't know how to talk about how his Dad's were almost burned alive. Or how when his dad stood in front of the darkest wizard to exist, he didn't cower in fear. He embraced it.

"Doesn't matter," he says instead. "All that stuff's over. You should just talk to him about it when he gets back. He won't be chuffed about it, that's for sure, but he won't hide anything from you."

"They'll be back," says James quietly. Teddy isn't sure for a moment if his brother is asking again, but when he loosens his hold around him he can hear the continued murmuring of him reassuring himself.

"Yeah," Teddy says in agreement anyway. "They'll be back. Any minute now, they're gonna be calling to check up on us."

"And they'll ask if we're okay. Like we were the ones attacked out of nowhere."

"Dad'll say something about how he's still not used to muggle phones or something."

"Yeah."

Teddy can feel the pressure fade from his chest just slightly with each reassurance. It's not a lot, but it's enough to bring a smile to his face.


	13. - m -

Draco has been singing the same song on a loop from memory for the last who-knows-how-long, while Harry handles business with the aurors. As he finishes the second verse of another ballad while staring at the agonizingly slow-moving clock, he feels the wards of Robards' office shift. The door doesn't open but the magic that was holding him inside the room or keeping anyone else out of it has fizzled away. He's on edge without even that shoddy excuse of a pre-loaded magic wand that he was using when they were just pattering around the house as his current practice tool being that his magic is still out of commission.

"I know you're out there," he says with an eye roll, keeping his voice firm and running a tired hand through his greasy hair. He hadn't been feeling well before he was attacked so he feels a million times worse now. He wishes they could just go home. "If you're looking for Robards he's busy. However, if you're bringing in tea, then by all means..."

The door opens slowly with no sound or magical shift. When Draco looks over at it, there's a nondescript person standing there. He isn't sure what to make of them. Their face is forgettable as is their hair and clothing choice. It takes him longer than it should to realize they've casted a _Notice-Me-Not_ charm and the only reason he's noticed them at all is because he's been sitting without magic for so long that every ounce of it is almost overwhelming to his core and the quick dismissal of Robards' wards have his own shackles rising.

"What do you want?" he sneers, stronger than he feels.

The person lifts a wand and aims it right at him, but before another motion can be made he feels a stiff metallic magic rushing through the air and tying them up in bonds.

"Are you alright, love?" Harry says as he strolls in, hands in his pockets and an odd gleam in his eyes.

"If that was wordless and wandless," he says sizing Harry up from head to toe, "I may have to shag you right here."

It takes nothing to realize that this isn't his fiancé. The magic, the posture, the too easy tone.

"Then, by all means," fake Harry says with a press smile and a shrug of his shoulders. Draco wonders if it's good or bad that he can tell an imposter from the real thing even through an almost perfect impersonation and has to stop himself from freezing when he realizes how long they must have been under surveillance for this person to pretend to be his love well enough on a surface level.

"In the Head Auror's office," Draco asks playing coy while peeling off his outer robes, "I'm sure he'd love that. Be great payback for turning our house upside-down."

Draco watches as the man in front of him stares at him lustfully. He isn't at his best of course, but he's never been hideous. He knows how to play to his strengths, draped against his seat in Robards office. The picture of false comfort.

As fake Harry steps closer, Draco runs through a list of things in his head that he can say to buy a little more time. He thinks his best bet would be to be on offense. He stands, sauntering over to Robards desk to lean onto it a bit, keeping his weight steady with his hands, and crossing his legs at the ankles.

"On the desk?" asks fake Harry making Draco smirk.

"I'll bend you over wherever you want, Potter."

"Oh?" fake Harry says, his steps stuttering as he continues to corner Draco.

"Yes," Draco continues emphatically, inwardly rolling his eyes at himself. "I'll get to actually see you be blushing and pregnant this time."

He pushes himself up from the desk until he's chest to chest with whoever the man in front of him is. He runs falsely playful fingers up the guy's arm until he has a soft grip on his shoulder and can pull him back against the desk with him. When he feels the wood against the back of his thighs, he lets the other hand grab for the heaviest thing he can find.

The bright side of someone pretending to be Harry, Draco thinks, is how well he knows Harry's body. With a light squeeze he has the imposter on his knees between his legs. One surprise hit over the head would have the man out cold, but with a whispered reversal spell he has Draco on his knees, hands tied behind his back.

"Thought maybe we could do something different this time," the man says and the small shy smile he eases onto Harry's face looks almost real.

Draco starts to respond, a fake smile on his lips even if his brows are furrowed and unsure, but when he opens his mouth he tastes the static electricity of Harry's magic and drops to the floor just as the door bursts open and a stunning charm hits the fake Harry square in the chest.

He turns to see Harry standing there, the real Harry, his hair wild and his scars glowing.

"How's Father," asks Draco once he's rolled over and pushed himself up into a sitting position on the floor. Harry comes over to help him up while eye-ing his look alike frozen on Robards' desk.

"Not as much of an arse as usual," Harry says with a grin.

"I'm sure Robards was surprised." He turns around and holds his hands out for Harry to release him. "Where is he anyway?"

"He's head auror, he has to approve your father's release."

"Fine," he sighs. "So what did _you_ find out?"

"Lucius thinks you hate him," says Harry, untying him then sending an incarcerous at the polyjuiced version of himself.

"I don't have the energy to hate him." Draco rolls his eyes outwardly this time and rubs at his wrists. "I meant what did you learn about _the case_, Potter."

"Seems like this is all connected to that muggle that tried to take James."

"A muggle with a magic gun?"

"Well the gun itself wasn't magic, just used bullets infused with magic runes and—" He stops talking at the look Draco levels him then sends him a concerned smile while looking him over. "Foiled kidnapping aside, you look better."

"Being exposed to all of the magic in the Ministry helps. Even if it is a little overwhelming."

"At least something good came out of this trip then." Harry leans in and kisses Draco like he's missed him. "Come on, we're free to go."

When they finally pull away, the fake Harry is slowly turning back into himself. His hair is black but much longer. His eyes are beady little blue specks in a olive-toned face. Neither of them can identify him but Harry thinks that he looks familiar. He narrows his eyes but makes quick work of tying the two attackers together and dragging them out of Robards' office with them.

They find Ron's desk and drops them off there before walking over to the lift, meeting up with Draco's parents and leaving together.

It's an odd look, both Harry and Draco think, but when they make eye contact they can't help but smile.

"Think they're involved?" Harry asks purposely casual, not trying to draw attention to their clear suspicion while looking over at the bound men as the lift doors close in front of them.

"Oh, absolutely," Draco responds, his arms crossed. "You know how long it takes to brew a good batch of polyjuice."

"It never stops does it," Harry says with a sigh, more to himself and the lift shoots up and out of the ministry.


	14. - ń -

"Jamesie," says a familiar voice shaking the boy lightly from his sleep.

"JL," says another more tired voice.

"I'll just carry him," says the first voice. "Sleeping helps reduce stress."

"Oh, of course it does. Tell me more, _Healer Potter._"

"Shut it, _Pop star._"

James feels the wash of magic in his sleep that he somehow knows makes him as light as a feather. He feels someone lift him onto their back and he snuggles into the feeling, the smell of home and storm clouds surrounding him.

"Thank you for letting them come here," the tired voice says from somewhere behind him.

"They're always welcome here," a female voice says this time. "I'll be over in the morning with some tea and maybe biscuits. You all look like you need a break."

James feels a hand brush through his hair and someone places a kiss on his forehead.

When James wakes up again, Teddy is watching him from the desk chair in the corner of his room at his father's house.

"Why aren't we home," he asks through a yawn.

"It's a mess. Aurors wrecked the place and Dads have to block the floo and fix it all tomorrow."

"Are Dads here?"

"Downstairs."

James sits up to go running down to them, but Teddy grabs his wrist to stop him.

"We're not allowed down there."

"Why the bloody hell not?" James turns fierce eyes on his brother as if that has ever worked before. "Don't they know how worried we were—"

"They're arguing," Teddy explains. "Talking about everything that happened and why Dad never let Pops over to his place and why he still has this place."

"Then why is it so quiet?"

"Dad said they were getting too loud 'cause you were asleep, and I guess they threw up some charms so we can't hear them, but I didn't hear what the spells were."

"Then how do you know they're still down there?"

Teddy falters for less than a second but it was enough for James to pull his hand free and bolt from his room. He doesn't hear anything as he crosses the threshold but he can see the lights on down in the living room.

James takes the stairs two at a time. He doesn't know why he can't just take Teddy's word for it, but he needs to see his dads with his own eyes. He needs to reach for their magic with his own. He needs to know that they're really there.

When he gets to the bottom step he can see that his dads _are_ arguing. He can't hear what they're saying but he can see them. It's not the first time they've argued and he knows it won't be the last but it doesn't bother him, because he knows they love each other and they love him and Teddy and they wouldn't do anything to hurt each other. He thinks back to years of them being apart and snorts. Not on purpose, at least.

He doesn't realize he's crying until a tear slides down his face onto his lips and he tastes the salt water. His dad looks over at him from where he's rubbing the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses and says his name. He doesn't hear it, of course, not at first but then the spell breaks and his dad tries again.

"Jamesie? Are you okay? What's the matter?" His dad steps closer, looking between each of his eyes and placing a hand on his head to check his temperature and cast a couple of wandless diagnostic spells.

James can't think of a real response, and he knows that he's too old to be blubbering like a baby, but seeing both of his parents there and _alive_ after all of the stress he had put himself and Teddy through is more than enough to send him to tears.

"I thought something terrible had happened to you," he says through a sob while launching himself from the step into his Dad's arms.

"Oh no, lovey," says his Father coming to run a hand through his curly hair as well, before placing a cool hand on his cheek and wiping some of his tears. "We're here. We're not going anywhere."

"B-but you got shot and now Teddy says they've destroyed the house and...and...and you guys were gone for so long." The sob that tears itself from James' throat is heart-wrenching and his wishes he wasn't such a cry baby. He wants to pull back and compose himself but then the stairs creek behind him and he hears Teddy's voice crack when he speaks as well.

"So you're both really okay?" Teddy says pleading. They can all hear the fear and the tears in his voice and James realizes that maybe they aren't too old to cry because they're _scared_. He can even feel his dad's tears as he pulls Teddy into the strong grip that the scarred man is passing off as a hug. Can feel the shudder in his father's breath.

"I'm sorry," their dad says over and over. "I'm so sorry."

"We're here. We're all here. We're okay," his father chimes in.

He thinks that maybe all of them were just waiting for a chance to break down, because they'd never had one, really. Had never given themselves one. They had shut down and clammed up and covered the feelings with anger or humor, but they'd never given themselves a chance to _feel_ it together. Or talk about it together. To _heal_ from it together. And James thinks that maybe this is what makes the difference.

"Can we..." his throat is scratchy and sore from the screams and sobs he hadn't realized were coming from him, his face is dry ans sticky from the tears, and his knees hurt from where they're all huddled together on the floor in a sad amalgamation of a group hug. He clears his throat and tries again even though the trauma wants him to clam up. "Can we talk about it?"

His dad's answering cry and nod is enough. They all want to get better, and now it's clear that they're all at least willing to try without ignoring it.

James thinks that maybe that's just a part of growing up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _i feel like im dragging the boys through it when we were just supposed to be happy & domestic. soz 😌 _


	15. - ö -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** tw: mentions of past abuse **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been months since ive updated this,, sorry  
i just havent been feeling very well mentally or emotionally and its been hard to push through the fog, ya know  
buttttt here it is!

It's been days since they've agreed to talk through everything and now that they're all sitting around the kitchen table it's hard to actually put their thoughts into anything resembling cohesive sentences. After about an hour of silence, Harry decides that maybe it'd be easier to talk if they had a good starting point. He looks from his sons to his soon to be husband before nudging the blonde man next to him. Draco looks at him unimpressed before sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms.

After another fifteen minutes of silence and throat clearing, they call Val.

"So," she says once she's seated at the kitchen island looking over the table at the rest of them, "what am I doing here?"

Harry looks at Draco and the blond drops his head to the tabletop, his hair a halo around him on the flat surface, letting out a groan.

"We're supposed to be talking," Harry explains when Draco refuses to sit back up properly.

"And?"

"None of us are really sure _how_."

"To talk?"

"Not about this kind of stuff," he says petulantly, tugging a loose string free from his fiancé's jumper. Draco sits up again at the provocation and narrows his eyes at Harry before blowing the string from the darker man's hand. "There are just things, for better or worse, that you just get used to not talking about. Things you couldn't talk about at one point so that when you can..."

"The words just get stuck," Draco says quietly not looking at anyone.

Val looks between them. She's stopped herself from wanting to be a part of what they have and although the pang is still there, she's mostly over it. She figures it was a whim at best from getting to know Draco better and being faced with two gorgeous men during moments of high emotion. A part of her is glad she's figured that out for herself because she's comfortable in the role she has taken up in their lives. She's in this relationship just as much as they are, even if she doesn't get the perks of being laid beneath them both. They're still her boys.

"Then start small," says Val with a shrug, as if it's obvious. Which to her, it is. "Don't try talking about the big stuff yet. And don't try to do the talking all at once."

"What exactly would be _starting small_?"

"Problems that are already resolved but you've never really talked about."

This time Draco looked to Harry for an idea of where to start.

"I..." Harry tilts his head to the side, thinking of how to word his thoughts in a way that doesn't seem too alarming. Draco and Val have seen him broken beyond repair, but James and Teddy haven't yet. He doesn't want them to. He thinks of Dumbledore screaming for death in a watery cave and doesn't wish that experience on anyone. Especially his sons.

"James and I can go upstairs," Teddy offers when he sees the look Harry levels them with.

"No," he insists. "We're a family. No more hiding." He takes a breath. _Start small. _"Until I got my Hogwarts' letter I lived in the cupboard under the stairs."

"You _what?" _Val says at the same time Draco forces out an enraged: "Under the _what?_"

"My family are pretty standard muggles. McGonagall once told me that she'd thought of them as the worst sort. They were greedy, racist, probably more than a bit homophobic, and they _hated _magic. Anything that didn't fit their idea of normal, they hated it. So the lot of them being white and muggle meant that _I_ was the problem. That I shouldn't've existed. Tossed me in there as soon as I was off the bottle."

"Dad!" both Teddy and James say rushing over to him and wrapping their arms around him. He's happy that he's raised them to see how wrong it was because even after more than 20 years out of the dank little cubby hole, and speaking with multiple mind healers, he can't imagine growing up any other way. Still can't imagine thinking of it as anything but _his_ cupboard.

"You never told me that," Val says quietly from her place near the counter.

"You know you didn't deserve that. Don't you?" asks Draco softly.

Harry doesn't respond any more than it takes to send each of them a sort of crooked sad amalgamation of a smile.

Draco's hand is reaching over to comb through the dark curly mass of hair on his fiancé's head almost without him noticing. If their sons weren't there he'd pull the ravenette as close to him as possible and hold him. Like he holds him after his magical panic attacks and his nightmares. But this isn't a hallucination he can just wake up from. This is his past. Parts of him he never deserved and never thought important enough to share. Draco thinks of something he's never told Harry and feels the lump grow in his throat.

He looks down at the table pulling his hands away from the light and _good_ that is Harry and their family. Back into himself.

"I... When I was younger," Draco decides to preface with and watches from the corner of his eyes as Harry looks away from him. They both know what he used to be like. He glances over at his son's who are nowhere near the absolute horror that he was and gulps. "I was a right prat."

Harry snorts in surprise while wiping used tears from his eyes. "That's one way of putting it."

"Fine, I was a terrible child," Draco corrects with a wave of his hand and a put upon voice to ease the tension even though he can feel the knots in his shoulders rolling beneath the years of healed scar tissue. "I was horrid, really, and my father was no better but I wanted to be just like him. I broke one of the Malfoy heirlooms one night. It was an accident, of course, I was probably no more than 5 years old."

Draco is sinking into the nightmare of a memory when Teddy speaks up. "And what happened?"

"When Father came home I... I blamed one of the house elves, Misty. He asked if I was certain it was her and I told him I was. And he..."

Harry lays a strong hand on his bicep, and Draco blinks, only just realizing the tears in his eyes. "He what, Draco?"

"He made me watch as he tortured her to death." He looks up into Harry's face searching for the comfort he knows is always there when he needs it. "Then he beat me with his cane for lying."

Draco feels like crying, but he doesn't. Without the return of his magic and all the stress he's under, his body is too weak for him to even consider it. Even the thought of crying drains him of the energy to sit up properly and he leans against Harry's chest as much as the darker man will allow.

Val walks over to them both, kissing them each on the forehead and running a hand across both of their heads, ruffling their hair as she goes.

James and Teddy, though stunned and emotionally distraught for their father's, can't seem to match up the horrid tales of childhood with the two men sitting in front of them. Can't even begin to imagine their Grandfather hurting anyone when they've just met him and he barely brushes their cheeks when he asks timidly for a hug. They know that both sides are true, but forcing the image to the man they know doesn't fit the same way it had before they'd met him.

They have more to talk about. More discussions to have and tears to dry, but for now, they consider the talk over so James gets up and sets the kettle on.


	16. - p -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _hope you're all doing well  
staying safe and healthy and all that good stuff_
> 
> _lemme know if yall still like this fic...idk i feel like my motivation is kinda bleh about it._

"No."

"But—"

"No."

"But what if I—"

"Draco, I swear to Merlin I will _incarcerous_ you to the bloody fucking bed if you don't lie _still_."

"I'm not quite sure what your kinks have to do with—" Draco shuts his mouth at the look Harry levels at him.

"The healer needs to recheck your magic, but he can't test it if you keep moving every time he comes near you with a wand."

"Oh yes, blame _me_ for being _traumatized_," the blond croons dramatically.

"Do you like making my life more difficult?"

"Absolutely adore it."

"You're aiming for a divorce before the wedding? Is that it?" Harry challenges with a threatening smile, something else shaking in his eyes, but Draco gives.

"You're no fun. Fine, fine. Send in the strapping young healer."

"I can go wait in the lobby if you two would like some privacy?"

"Most men would be jealous."

Harry looks down at his soon-to-be husband, lounging on the check-out bed in a muggle hospital gown with a plastic cap trapping his hair. There are fuzzy gloves and socks on his hands and feet to minimize any stray magic from leaving his body. Harry raises a brow.

"You're right," says Harry with a straight face. "I can't believe I almost left you alone."

Draco, the mature man that he is, sticks his tongue out at Harry just as the aforementioned _young and strapping _Healer walks in, a clipboard and quick quotes quill floating in the air beside him.

"Sorry, sirs. Is this a bad time?"

Harry has to turn away and bite down on his knuckles to keep from laughing at the forced dignity Draco tries to present once he sees they are no longer alone.

"Not at all, Healer Smith. Do come in."

Harry actually does snort at that.

"If you sent a bat-bogey hex at him, I'd pretend I didn't see."

"Glad to know you'd protect me. love," Draco says.

"Here only to serve you, Draco, darling."

"That didn't sound very sincere. Did it, Healer Smith?" Draco watches somewhat wearily as Smith steps closer to him to start the diagnostic spells. When the healer lifts his wand, Draco squeezes Harry's hand, as much a comfort to him as it is to his fiancé.

They're here and alive and okay. He's okay. He's better than okay, he's _good. He's—_

"Fucking hell, you're making me go absolutely barking mad."

Draco doesn't notice the array of colors around him until he stops talking and huffs a breath. Harry is looking up at the different numbers and symbols, seemingly right in his element. There's a small smile on his face, and Draco focuses on that because if he looks anywhere else he'll take notice of Healer Smith who still has his wand out and aimed at him in order to keep the spells steady.

"Do you think..." Harry says softly, his eyes still watching the information floating above Draco's body, "do you want to get married after this?"

Draco feels his heartbeat spike at the same moment the lights explode into sparks above him.

"Potter, shut up," he snaps."Stop asking."

"I thought that one was a bit more romantic..."

"You ask me once a week."

"And?"

"And it's not romantic when you keep asking after I keep declining. I'm about to wonder if you know how to take no for an answer."

"Maybe I'm hoping you'll change your mind."

"You can't ask that every time you see me laying in a hospital bed and think I'll just change my mind by the next time."

"Fucking hell, Malfoy. I just want to marry you, alright? There's no ulterior motive. I want to be married to you and I don't want the stress of a big wedding to make you change your mind or something. With everything that's been going on, I just... I want people to know that you're my husband and that I'm yours. I don't want there to be a question about the future. You're _it_ for me."

"_Me? _You...You think _I'm_ going to change _my _mind?" Draco spluttered, looking between Healer Smith and Harry. Just like a Gryffindor to spill his guts in front of a stranger. "I— Potter what the _fuck?_ Where do you think I'm going!? I've been in love with you since school, for Salazar's sake. We have children! Did you think I was going to get tired of you and just...what? Leave?"

Harry isn't looking at him. Refuses to look anywhere but the scar, where it's still etched, on the back of his hand. Healer Smith has taken the chance to leave and though Draco doesn't notice immediately, he does feel lighter without the weight of a wand on him.

"You...you do, don't you. You think I'll...You're just waiting for me to leave again. P— _Harry." _Draco's voice cracks but Harry still doesn't look up at him. It breaks his heart to see. Harry would give him anything if it made him happy, has given him _everything_ a million times over, but he still thinks Draco is going to run at the drop of a hat and honestly Draco can't blame him. It's what he's done before. It's what he's _always _done.

"Forget it," Harry says quietly, but now Draco knows why. Can practically see all the eggshells that his fiancé, the love of his bloody life, has been stepping on. He pushes Draco to heal and to be better and to be kinder, but he doesn't push any closer for fear that he'll be pushed away.

"Let's get married today," says Draco, holding a hand out for Harry to take. "Nothing big or extravagant. Just us and a couple witnesses."

Harry still looks withdrawn, like he hadn't expected them to look into his heart as well when they'd come to St. Mungos. Yet he still doesn't say anything. He looks over into Draco's eyes like he's searching for a lie. Draco isn't moving. He's pretty sure he'd stopped breathing when Harry turned those eyes onto him.

After a moment or two, it seems like Harry realizes it isn't a trick and he snatches up Draco's hand like a lifeline.

"I'm not going anywhere," Draco placates."It's you and me, Potter."

"You and me," echoes Harry, the smile easing back onto his face.


	17. - q -

When they make it to the Ministry's Court to sign the paperwork, Hermione, Ron, Parkinson, and Zabini, who Draco invited, are already there. They smile at them with knowing eyes and Harry knows it's going to be okay.

There's nothing fancy about any of it, though they do both have on well-tailored suits. Teddy and James are also dressed smart yet simple in button-downs and tailored trousers that Draco insisted on, but neither of them is wearing a tie or formal dressing robes.

It takes 18 minutes for Harry to marry the love of his life. 32 minutes, if he includes the waiting time, but he doesn't. 18 minutes, 2 kisses, a boatload of tears, and he's done it.

He grabs Draco's hand as they walk out of the ceremonial circle and smiles at him. The rings on their fingers are simple, gold and silver bands looped with a band of jade and lined with small inset diamonds. They were expensive, sure, but they weren't gaudy. It's taken years for Harry to be able to spend more than he strictly needs, but it feels good to have done this. To have gotten a ring worthy of his husband.

"Seven hells," says Draco squeezing his hand. "You're thinking. Stop it. I can see the smoke coming from your ears. It's not very attractive."

"Oh, shut it."

"Let me hear it then. What's got you all in your head?" He props his head on Harry's shoulder, looking up into his eyes playful yet serious. "You've just married the sexiest bachelor this side of the Thames, not including Blaise. What's there to think about?"

"How lucky I am to be here with you," Harry says easily. He watches happily as the blood rushes to Draco's cheeks all the way up to the tips of his ears and down the collar of his shirt.

"Goddammit, Potter," he says pushing away from Harry to look anywhere else, but he still keeps their hands locked together.

"It's Malfoy-Potter now, actually."

Harry smiles wider as the blush grows impossibly deeper beneath Draco's pale skin. He knows they look sickeningly happy as they lead their family and friends to a nice muggle restaurant for dinner and he wonders why it took them so long to get here.

Harry's phone rings just as they sit at the table. He lets go of Draco's hand to dig it out of his coat's breast pocket and smiles triumphantly at the table when he finds it.

"A real catch you have there, Draco," Zabini says as Harry answers and he sticks his tongue out at him.

"Saviour of the Wizarding World," Draco reminds them jokingly with a sage nod. Harry sticks his tongue out at him too.

Everyone at the table laughs a bit before breaking off into their own conversations and he finally turns his attention to the call.

"Hello?"

_"Hey, Hare, I figured you guys would be done at the hospital by now so I stopped by the house but no one's here. Are the boys at Hermione and Ron's place?"_

"Oh," Harry says intelligently. He forgot to tell Val.

_"Oh? Oh, what?"_

"Oh...we're uh out for dinner?" He knows it sounds like a question, but he can't imagine how he forgot to mention any of this to Val even if he knew she was working today. "You should join us. Hermione and Ron are here too. I forgot to mention."

_"Oh," _she says this time. _"Well, where are you?"_

"We're at Quaglino's over by—"

_"Fucking hell, Hare. I know where it's by, but that place is... I can't afford to eat there!"_

"Me and Draco are paying. Don't worry about it. We're celebrating."

_"Fucking hell,_" she says again. _"You went and got fucking married and didn't even invite me."_

"I'm inviting you now."

_"Only 'cause I called."_

"Val, I swear to Merlin if you don't—"

_"Oi, shut up. I'm on my way." _She hangs up without another word and Harry turns a goofy smile over to Draco who is staring at him with one eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Val's on her way."

"And?"

"She's angry we didn't mention the wedding."

"We literally decided this morning."

"And you can tell her that when she gets here. She says I make terrible spur of the moment decisions."

"That's because you do."

"I do not!"

"You do."

Harry tilted his head back as if asking for help from a higher power. "Draco, darling, love of my life, agree with me. Just once."

"I can't. It'd go against everything I stand for, love."

A waiter comes out soon after asking for drink orders and handing them each a menu to choose their three courses.

Harry looks at the menu then turns to look at Draco. He can see Ron doing the same to Hermione out of the corner of his eyes. Teddy and James haven't even touched the menu and Harry snorts a laugh.

"Think you could help your family order?"

"Merlin, help _me_," Draco says but he has a smile on his face as he orders for each of them.

Valeria Cross is a sight for sore eyes when she arrives. She's wearing a two-piece dress that hugs her figure fabulously. It's a deep purple with cream and maroon stripes that accentuate her shape. Her hair is in loose waves from being pinned up all day but it still fits with the fancy attire required for the restaurant.

"Val!" Harry says loud yet politely, standing up to wave her over to their table. She narrows her eyes once she finds him and storms over, sitting next to him and whacking him across the back of the head with her bag. She settles back with a smile once that seemed to be taken care of. They've gotten booth seats so that he and Draco can snuggle closer together and everyone else can fit around them.

"Draco," says Val kindly. "Congratulations."

"Valeria, so glad you could make it. You look stunning."

"Stop flirting over me," says Harry.

"Stop pouting, love," Draco teases, "it's very unbecoming of you."

"I'm not pouting."

"But aren't you," Val says from one side of him as she leans forward on the table a bit to catch his eye.

The three of them look up when they hear glass shattering and catch sight of Zabini, suave-charismatic-Blaise fucking Zabini, frozen on the spot. He's gaping at them with both of his eyebrows raised and a stain blooming on the front of his expensive suit from the wine he's spilled on it, his glass shattered on the floor. Draco nudges Harry and when he turns to look at his husband, the blond is gesturing back at Zabini who only has eyes for...

"Val?" Harry says surprised when he sees that she's frozen as well. He clears his throat and tries again. "Val?"

"Er...oh, yes, Hare?" Her eyes never leave Blaise.

"Val, this is Blaise Zabini. He's one of Draco's best friends from school."

"Blaise," Draco continues, "This is Valeria Cross. She's a friend of ours. She and Harry were dating before."

Zabini's eyes scan Harry and Draco quickly before landing back on Val.

"It's lovely to meet you, Valeria," Zabini says reaching out for her hand before raising it to his lips and kissing her knuckles. Harry watches as her cheeks heat up. "Sorry, I'm such a mess."

"It's Val," she responds with a shy but easy smile, tucking some of her curly hair behind her ear. "You look fine. Better than fine, I promise."

As they continue making eye contact across the table, Harry looks over at Draco who looks pleased but also kind of surprised.

"Oh hell," Parkinson says. "I haven't even eaten yet and I'm about to lose my dinner."

At the sound of her voice, it's as though the two almost strangers snap out of whatever trance they've fallen into. They're still peeking at each other, but Zabini does let the waitstaff come and clean up the shards of glass he'd seemed to have forgotten were around him.

Later, when dinner and dessert are over and everyone's headed home, Harry intertwines his fingers with Draco and lays his head on his shoulder as they walk towards the nearest apparation point. James and Teddy are spending the night with the Granger-Weasley's so that they can have the night to themselves.

"I'm happy for them."

"They haven't even done anything yet," Draco argues half-heartedly. There's still a soft dopey smile on his face as well and a speck of chocolate sauce on the corner of his lips that Harry refused to tell him about.

"There were sparks in the air!" Harry insists, joyful. "I've never seen Zabini like that."

"You're allowed to call my friends by their names, you know."

"Fine. _Blaise. _I've never seen Blaise like that. He looked..._human._"

Draco laughed. "What does he usually look like?"

"You and your friends always look so put together, you know?" Harry squeezed his hand. "So untouchable."

Draco is silent for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is a whisper amidst the sounds of traffic and people walking by. "So you wouldn't be..." he pauses as if searching for the right word. "You wouldn't be jealous if Blaise went for her?"

"No. Why would I be?"

"You loved her, didn't you?" Draco stops walking, taking his hands back from Harry and putting them in his pocket.

"I did," Harry confirms, turning to face him with a shrug. "I still do."

"Then—"

"But it's not the same way that I love you. It's never... Draco I have never loved _anyone _the way that I love _you_."

"That can't be healthy," Draco says petulantly, but he's staring into Harry's eyes and there are tears clinging to his lashes.

"Not at all," says Harry softly as he leans in closer for a kiss. He wraps his arms around Draco's neck and melts into his husband when Draco's hands grip his waist.

"I love you too," Draco says against his lips.

They disapparate on the spot, stumbling onto their lumpy couch once they appear in their living room.

"Healer Potter," admonishes Draco, flirtatiously. "Apparating without being completely focused? Imagine if we'd have gotten splinched."

"Well then I'd just have to strip you down and patch you up," Harry says before sucking a hickey onto Draco's neck.

They're married and enamored and in love and too distracted to notice the way the room is glowing and over-heating.

Needless to say, the explosion comes as a bit of a surprise.


	18. - r -

When Draco comes to, he is alone. His skin is burning and blistered, like his entire body has been branded with the dark mark, yet the one on his arm is still there. Scarred and faded pink against his usually pale skin.

He strains as he attempts to sit up, but manages it anyway.

Looking around, Harry is nowhere to be found. Draco wants to scream or cry, but somehow he only feels numb.

"H-Harry?" he tries, his voice hoarse from the force of whatever residual magic clawed itself out of him. When he doesn't get a response he starts mumbling to himself as he stumbles through the burnt wreck that is the lower floor of their home. "Don't be dead. Potter, I swear to Salazar if you're dead—"

The feeling in his chest is far from new. It's an ache older than their amicable relationship. It's painful and sore like almost everything from the war happens to be. Feels just as much his fault now as it did back then.

As if Harry's heard his spiraling thoughts, their couch, now in ashy tatters shifts and he pokes his head out. His hair is smoking and full of debris, but other than a scratch on his cheek he looks fine.

"Draco?" Harry coughs, pushing himself out of the wreckage of the furniture. "Draco are you okay?"

Draco relaxes once he sees that his husband is okay. Harry comes closer, wrapping his arms around him and Draco gives in to the feeling. His eyes drift shut without him even noticing.

* * *

They've explained it to him a few times, but apparently, all Harry manages to understand is that he's the reason that that idiot of a muggle went after the love of his life.

After the man that they now know to be Timothy Briggs was tossed into the alley like a sack of rubbish, he'd seen Harry apparate away with the boys. It seems that it'd taken less effort for him to look into magic on the dark web than it did for him to just be a decent person. It took even less for him to find interesting stories from squibs and ex-death eaters and other wizards who had run to the muggle world because their families had been murdered during the war. People who blamed Draco and the Malfoys for everything going south.

Harry wants to vomit.

"So," he chokes out, "It's my fault?"

"What?" spits Draco livid.

"All of this...you getting shot. Your magical core being trapped. Our kids are teenagers and they're terrified of leaving our side because they never know if we're going to come back. And here you are, in the hospital _again, _because your magic being locked up for so long makes _both _of our magical cores unstable. And it's my fault."

"I beg your fucking pardon?" Draco is standing now, his long limbs elegant in a deep maroon turtle neck and black trousers even with an IV dangling from his left hand. His brow is furrowed angrily, not quite hidden by his tousled hair, as he approaches Harry. "You saved James and Teddy's lives."

"And put yours at risk."

"Potter, I haven't wanted to break your nose in fucking years."

"Hm," Harry says non-committal. "And how does it feel?"

"Nostalgic."

The best he gets from Harry is a sad little smirk and he decides he should change tactics. They've been working on it. The communication and the trauma, but it means they've been much more raw and vulnerable to their emotions. Draco wishes he could say it was a bad thing, but he likes knowing what makes Harry tick. Always has. And he is sure the feeling is mutual.

He walks forward and pulls the still seated man into a hug. Sometimes they both needed the pressure, the heat, the weight, the reassurance that they're both there and breathing and alive.

"I really will break your fucking nose," Draco mutters lovingly into Harry's ear and he's rewarded with a genuine laugh and the feeling of being pulled into his husband's lap.

"No, you won't. It never healed right the last time," says Harry smiling into his collarbone.

"Oh? Is that why it's crooked," Draco asks breezily.

"You know that's why!"

"Can't say I recall."

Harry releases a soft breath that flutters the strands of Draco's hair that's fallen from his short and messily pinned ponytail.

When neither of them has anything else to say the Auror that has joined them in the exam room at St. Mungos clears her throat.

"Is there any new information that either of you have for us? Anything that could be helpful to the DMLE to find any other wizards who may be behind this while the investigation is open for your case?"

When they both assure her that if they knew anything they'd have told her already, she nods and leaves the room, though she spares another weary unconvinced glance at Draco that puts Harry on edge.

"Calm down, Potter, you're going to brew storm clouds or something."

"Oh, piss off," Harry says rolling his eyes as he looks back over towards his husband.

Draco looks fine. The healer had said there were no issues beyond their newly bonded magic trying to connect but not being able to. Draco's magic, terrified and locked away, panicked and attacked exploding into a frenzy of wild heat. Harry's magic on the other hand had reached out to protect him and Draco, and it'd worked! Mostly. They both have minor burns and a few scratches, but they're alive.

"What?" asks Draco, watching him.

"You sure you're alright?"

"Ask me that again and I won't be."

"Draco, I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Draco."

"Harry."

"Why do you have to be so bloody difficult? I'm worried about you!"

"No, you're not! You know I'm fine. I told you I'm fine. The healers said I'm fine. You just want a reason to feel guilty and I'm not going to give you one."

"I'm not trying to—"

"If you want something to focus on, call Weasley. Find out what happened to the two imbeciles we caught before and ask him why the bloody hell is the DMLE trying to place blame on me and my father."

"Ron can't tell me anything about open cases that he's working on."

"You're Harry fucking Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World. Golden Boy of the Ministry," Draco says as if his husband is an idiot. "Find someone who will."


End file.
